


There are worse things

by octoaliencowboy



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: :), Damian has a pottymouth, Ficlet, Gen, Humour, I can headcanon what I want and you can’t stop me, if you follow me on tumblr this won’t be a surprise but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoaliencowboy/pseuds/octoaliencowboy
Summary: Damian ventures where no batkid has gone before... into Alfred’s bedroom. You know, one small step for Damian Wayne, one great leap for Waynekind or something like that. There, he discovers a secret Alfred has been carrying with him since even before he started working for the Waynes.Fill in the blank: the truth come out— does Alfred is ______?





	There are worse things

No one actually figures it out until one day, when Damian is chasing Alfred the cat around the manor, and the cat dashes into Alfred the butlers room. The door is open,  _ unlocked _ and open, a rare, rare thing. Damian pauses outside of the ajar door. He is not supposed to go in there. No one goes in Alfred’s room— it’s the only part of the manor that feels truly completely off limits, even though it was never stated outright. 

But, if Alfred finds cat hair all over his room then he will be angry, and Alfred is the only member of his family Damian has qualms about setting off. So, he slowly pushes the door open— it doesn’t creek, the hinges well oiled— and slips in. 

The room looks almost exactly like Damian imagined it might. Quickly he takes in all the details, simultaneously savouring the only glance he will ever get of Alfred’s private space and scanning for his naughty cat. Everything is tidy, spotless even, not a speck of dust on the dresser or a piece of dirt on the floor. The curtains are closed, blocking the meager sunlight outside. A pair of slippers is neatly placed by the bed, and a book is sitting on the bedside table. 

Curiously, a frame on the wall above the bed tells Alfred has a Murphy bed— one that flips up into the wall. But Damian can’t think of why Alfred might need one. Despite this being the servant’s quarters, it’s perfectly spacious. 

On top of the dresser are a few photo frames; one old photo of Martha and Thomas Wayne, and a couple of much,  _ much _ older photos of people Damian doesn’t recognize. 

Suddenly Damian hears a meow from under the bed. He crouches on the polished wood floor and gingerly lifts up the crisp, straight bedskirt, and is met with the sight of his cat, crouched next to… 

A coffin. 

He freezes. Alfred the cat slips out from under the bed and pads out of the room. Damian lets go of the bedskirt, and it flutters back to the floor, once again innocently concealing the  _ goddamn fucking shit damn  _ **_coffin_ ** (!!!) under the bed. 

Well. Okay. You know what? Damian thinks,  _ you know what _ ?

This makes sense, actually. All those odd behaviours everyone brushes off because ‘Oh, Alfred’s just british, they’re all like that’, like eating blood pudding (blood pudding!!! Fuck!!!) or only ever going outside with a parasol. 

Damian’s grandfather on his mother’s side is essentially immortal, too. And there are much worse things to find under your grandfather’s bed, like an extensive collection of bdsm gear, or, uh, idk, a Lazarus pit. 

Really, in the grand scheme of things, it is not that big a deal. 

So Damian stands up, brushes off his knees even though the floor really is spotless, and walks out of the room. He closes the door behind him and vows to never ever bring this up,  _ ever _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Fill in the blank: the truth come out— does Alfred is ______? 
> 
> Answer: vampire
> 
> And also he’s gay, but that wasn’t a secret


End file.
